Following Prosef Vesev’s shocking triumph in the combat arena, Donald Dolce felt very sick to his stomach. He could not believe the Magnates had gone through with it—nor the family leaders, who watched on with a mixture of disgust and rage in their own faces—and smugness, in the case of the Vesev’s, who had won a great deal of prestige this day. But at what cost?
He looked over at his sister, who was a bit like a flea in that she was everywhere he wanted to be. Today, and only today, he didn’t mind. “Well, that was . . .” He was going to add more to the empty statement, but his throat wrenched just as he realized he didn’t have any more to say anyway.
Felicity nodded jaggedly, swallowing in time with him. “Let us say I’m glad I didn’t try for the games after all.”
He certainly was. Though he complained of her company all the time, she was all he had. Their parents, ever since the two had gotten their wings and begun to reach maturity, had essentially abandoned them in favor of the family. Of course, none of the others at all their gatherings had caught on to the fact, or perhaps felt the instinctive duty to step in. Indeed, that the justification for their parents’ abandonment, that the family as a whole would simply look after them; and they did. Callo Dolce was a busy man, and Mother was no longer a factor, and no one stopped to consider who Callo’s heir was—he was simply the big man, the next in line whenever old Otto finally kicked the bucket.
Down below, the Magnates had gathered to discuss the Vesev heir’s legitimacy in taking poor Veran Tarnack’s life. Such brilliant talent . . . gone. Don had not known the young man well, and indeed had never cared for his temperament, but surely he hadn’t deserved an end like that. But the Magnates had already made provisions in their rules, and couldn’t very well go back on it, though the house leaders—starting, of course, with Tarnack—were beginning to call out for justice and similarly vain things. Apparently, they could not see that justice and fairness did not always go hand in hand.
Still . . . the Vesev were not known for their admirable qualities, and Prosef, as he’d heard it, took after his father Victro far too much. Yet they said it was his mother, Hilda, who whispered great things in his ear, and who had encouraged him to take part in this tournament. Until now, he hadn’t understood that confidence, but now . . . the only thing left to puzzle out was why his father did not approve of his being there. His tack certainly seemed to have changed, for he now proudly defended his son amidst those calling out for blood and justice.
Somehow, the tide of the verbal brawl had changed, and representatives from multiple houses had come out in accusation of House Vesev, approaching the Magnates. Some, of course, took Vesev’s side. Victro Vesev did not go himself, but his younger brother Pyut, a Waveborn of some talent. Callo Dolce was there, arms folded disapprovingly over his large chest. Yet the boy Prosef was still arguing with the Magnates, apparently discontent with their refusal to immediately acknowledge his victory. In anger, he stormed off, igniting his violet wings and shooting upward, but he was stopped by the Waveborn of House Hondahl, Grekha, who was on Lyrian Tarnack and Callo Dolce’s side of things. Prosef’s uncle worked his own antiwards against Grekha’s wards, but the Magnates intervened, pulling Prosef to the ground with some strange force. It was not gently that he struck the stone, but it was with rage. Finally, his façade of the perfect son had been shattered and he screamed like a caged predator.
“The games are over, but the final decision is yet to be made,” one of the Magnates was saying to him in response to his outbursts. “You are not free to go.”
Of course, this was code for “I know it’s the rules we made, but we fear the House leaders and we need to handle this tactfully.”
Don found himself drawn in by the central disagreement between Magnates and representatives, who took to dignified squabbling befitting of Fenabackan heirs. He was almost rooting for neither side as much as both, though that part of him inside that was so disgusted with Prosef’s manner of victory did rebel just a little, telling him that he should be far removed from entertainment of the Vesev side of things. Looking over at Felicity, he saw that his sister was only more engrossed by the goings on than he, and more so than in all the games. Perhaps they were both bored of the standstill between Houses, and really just wanted to see something new and exciting.
This was certainly that. Good excitement? Well, that was another question.
“Don! Look, what is that?” Felicity exclaimed suddenly, gripping the shoulder of his doublet in two fingers and rising to her feet, wings jostling him.
“Watch it,” he muttered, scanning the arena floor for what she spoke of. She raised a finger in response and pointed toward nothing, somewhere to the right of the boy Prosef, who stood gazing also at nothing, or perhaps the Magnate ____.
“What is it? I see nothing?” he asked over the din of commotion.
“That—that . . .” she trailed off, eyes intent. “Maybe it was a trick of the eyes. Or some art of the Magnates. I thought I saw a shadowy form . . . tall and black and thin . . . You really didn’t see it?”
He scoffed. “Definitely your eyes, sister.”
She cuffed him with her wing, this time by intent.
The arena exploded.
The light levels dimmed about the entire stone island, flickering uncertainly, as purple and scarlet flames strafed the combat arena. Screams reverberated through the stone floor, ringing off the polished surface, and men and women fell as Don watched. He too rose from his seat, scowling in startlement. What had been borderline chaos now became a frantic battleground, centering on the boy Prosef, who had . . . attacked Magnate Revel. His wings flared out, one set behind and one lashing forward rhythmically, like fiery whips. The Magnate, to the shock of all watching, was on the defensive.
The family representatives joined in, attempting to stop the crazed beast that was Prosef, whilst his uncle worked against them. Callo Dolce spread his thundercloud wings, growing and thickening them, pulling on the clouds themselves until the island was further darkened. Suddenly, a bright bolt split the air mere inches from Pyut. Following this, the Stormborn was immediately upon him, whilst the two remaining Magnates were trying to stop Prosef.
The two . . . remaining Magnates. Revel lay twitching on the ground, and Prosef had already shot skyward, shouting something that Don could not make out. “Stop!” cried Victus with a resounding voice, raising forth a hand while his companion stopped to attend the fallen Revel. Victus erected a Ward, visible by the glint that traced the sky some hundred yards above the arena level. But Pyut the Waveborn worked against it, and the Vesev heir broke right through. He turned about only to call out his father’s cowardice, and to curse the Magnates. Then he was gone, Callo chasing after only until it was obviously pointless. Slowly, the scene settled from shocked surrealism into grim reality. Prosef had Ascended, blessing or no, using a power they did not know. And he had left a dead Magnate in his wake.
Characters
- Solis Lightwing (SOLE-iss)—The main character, a white-winged boy of unceasing curiosity who longs to see inside the forbidden Earth.
- Telsan (TELL-suhn)—Solis’ best friend, a young man of the Bird Tribe.
- Phoenix Dolce (DOLE-chay)—Friend of Solis and Telsan, a Flameborn girl of sixteen years. Daughter of Falla Dolce.
- Pim Lightwing—Daughter of Fey of Longfell and mother of Solis and Floris.
- Arthur Lightwing—An exterior miner, husband of Pim, head of the Lightwing household.
- Faridi (fuh-RID-ee)—A Tapiq man who frequently volunteers for lookout duty.
- Colla—A female Tapiq; often works with Faridi.
- Melka—One of the three living Tapiq Magnates.
- Donnor—Said to be the eldest of the three living Magnates.
- Spore—One of the three living Magnates. Doesn’t say much.
- Fey—Solis’ deceased grandmother, a former Magnate.
- Floris—Solis’ younger sister. 11 years old; aspires to be a physician.
- Caris—Eldest of the three Lightwing children, now married and residing in the neighboring Tapiq village of Dram.
- Falla Dolce—Phoenix’s mother, a Dustborn from a powerful elementalist family of Fenaback. Kept her family name due to unfortunate events she’d rather leave buried.
Terms
- Earth, The—An immeasurable continent that looms over the entire sky. Forbidden to all save those whom the Magnates choose each year.
- Tapiq (tuh-PEEK)—The tribe of winged men who dwell in Ameros and the surrounding islands. As with most tribes, they have adopted some from other tribes and races as their own, while others are visitors.
- Ornis—Also called the Bird Tribe, though this isn’t entirely accurate, as there are multiple; most simply live farther north.
- Hiding, The—The six hours in the middle of the day when the Sun’s low-angled course takes it behind the infinite cloud layer that looms beneath the sky world.
- Magnate—One of the three living souls of the Tapiq tribe who have ascended to the Earth and returned, bearing supposedly infinite knowledge that they choose to keep hidden.
- Ameros (AM-uh-ros)—Largest island in the southeastern quadrant of the sky, where the Tapiq village of Megeth lies.
- Megeth (Meh-GETH)—Capital city of the Tapiq people.
- Grimstaf VI (GRIM-stahf six)—An artificial island created west of Ameros by the Harbinger.
- Elementalist—One born with a Kinship to an elemental force. They usually lack wings.
Kinships
- Flameborn—Kin of flame. They form their own wings as needed from tongues of fire that sprout from their backs.
- Dustborn—Artists of soil and dust. They fly with wings created from nearby dust particles.
- Windborn—Wind kin. Unlike other elementalists, these often grow wings just like any other, though some possess heightened abilities allowing them to fly without wings—and thus lacking them.
- Waveborn (aka Watchers)—Keepers of the invisible wards that protect the sky islands from falling hazards. Also, those with the rare ability of sound manipulation.
- Dewborn—These control moisture and redirect water.
- Stormborn—Creators of small storms and electrical currents.
- Snowborn—Bringers of frost and snow on a small scale.
- Sunborn—Manipulators of light.
- Beastborn—These rare kind, seen largely in the northwestern isles, come in different orders according to a certain class of living creature.
- Cragborn—Manipulators of stone.